The Trooper
by GryphonDarkbow
Summary: An in-progress story about the battle of Geonosis from the perspective of a clone trooper. I am open to suggestions, criticisms, comments.


The Trooper

His eyes opened just as the HUD on his visor flickered back to life. Immediately, he was conscious of a heavy weight draped across his armored torso. He craned an aching neck to get a better look at what was on top of him. Burnt white armor, a chunk missing from the abdomen, leaving exposed a gaping wound peppered with red-hot shrapnel. He cried out in panic as he threw his dead brother off of him, the body crashing into a cracked sheet of metal a few meters away. The helmet, already loose, rolled off to rest at his feet. From the crude triangle scratched out slightly left of the fin running across the top, he could tell it had belonged to CT-4134. Arrow.

Slowly rising to his hands and knees, the trooper tried to get his bearings. He stood up, promptly slamming his head against a weapon rack hanging above him. His HUD flickered slightly, but the impact was more annoying than painful. Guess this armor was good for something. Looking around, he gathered that the gunship cabin was flipped on its side, with one door above him, light leaking through the view slits, and another beneath his feet, buried in sand. Another body had been swallowed in the sand that filled half the cabin, evidenced by the armored legs hanging limply out of the side of the mound. If this clone hadn't been killed by the impact, the suffocation had finished the job. He wondered who it was. Grabbing the legs, he pulled the body out of its sandy coffin, causing a small avalanche of dust to kick up into his visor. As it cleared, he saw that the helmet had been blasted in half, taking off most of the clone's face. So that ruled out suffocation. The blood-soaked mohawk running down the back of the head identified this one as CT-3489. Stripe.

Suddenly, the ground shook beneath his feet. Explosions and blaster fire echoed from outside the cabin. Guess somebody had made it through all that flak. All the damned flak. An unexpected anger caught fire in his chest. They were perfect soldiers, efficient, effective, loyal. Trained their whole lives for a single purpose, but so many never even reached the ground. He was snapped back to reality by another explosion, followed by screaming. He looked around frantically for a weapon. His eyes fell on a DC-15A blaster rifle, still sitting untouched on its rack, pristine and ready for duty. Before he could appreciate his good luck, there was a banging on the door above him. He lunged for the rifle. As he pressed the familiar weight of the long rifle into his shoulder, the weapon blinked on, syncing to the HUD in his helmet. Crosshairs shimmered into his field of view, and he brought them to bear on the door. The banging had stopped, replaced by a familiar voice. "Hello? Is there anyone alive in there?" The familiarity meant little. Everyone he knew, except for the Kaminoans, had that voice.

"Yeah, I'm here."

There was a sigh of relief from the other side. "Thank the Force. Hold tight, trooper, we'll get you out." After a few seconds, the door creaked open, the sudden light blinding him before his visor could adjust to the glare. A black-gloved hand was offered to him. He grabbed it, heaving himself up out of the death-filled pit. Two identical helmets greeted him, still white under the sand and scars of battle. "You alright, need medical attention?" asked the trooper that had pulled him up.

"No, I'm alright."

The other trooper piped up. "You're part of Stinger Company, right? This is their gunship, judging by the coloration."

"Yeah, where are the rest of them? There's only two casualties in there."

The first trooper pointed north, towards a massive dust cloud that could only hide a battle of galactic proportions. "Reported to Forward Command over an hour ago. Reported gunship crash. Three casualties. Looks like they mistook you for a corpse and closed up the hatch again to prevent the Geos from getting at your bodies."

"I was buried underneath one of our guys. They must have been in a hurry."

The trooper flinched. "Blast, that sounds unpleasant. Sorry. Yeah, they were in a hurry alright. Went down in the middle of a heavy fire zone. Miracle they didn't take any more hits getting to the FC." The second trooper butted in again. "We can help you get there, link up with them."

"Thanks, but I think I can make my own way."

The first one laughed. "Nonsense. We're heading that way anyway. Besides, no clone should enter a combat zone alone. There are still plenty of pockets of resistance in this sector, but it's nothing we three can't handle. Strong as one and all that, right? Anyway, behind me is CT-6399, called Niner, and I'm CT-5543. Lads call me-AUGH!" The bolt came from nowhere, cutting through his chestplate and throwing him off the gunship into the sand. Niner and the trooper dropped prone. Raising his head slightly, the trooper looked for the source. A ragtag patrol of six B1 Battle Droids led by a damaged B2 Super Battle Droid was approaching from the direction of the battle, firing steadily. More bolts zipped overhead, some colliding with the gunship armor, showering the troopers with sparks. "He's dead, he's dead. My pod brother is dead." Niner was sobbing from where he lay. For whatever reason, some clones didn't get as much emotional detachment from the genetic modification as others. The trooper wasn't one of these clones.

"Stow that, trooper! Prepare to return fire!"

He zeroed in on the closest B1 droid, squeezing the trigger of his blaster in two controlled three shot bursts. The first searing blue burst separated the droid's left arm from its torso, the second sliced it in half.

"Damn it, Niner! Fire your weapon!"

Niner staggered to his feet, shoulders heaving. "You killed him! Which one of you metal bastards killed him?!" He switched his DC-15A to fully automatic and waved it frantically in the direction of the enemy, spraying bolts everywhere.

"Soldier, GET DOWN!"

The trooper reached up and grabbed Niner's wrist, slamming him back onto the hull of the gunship just as multiple red blasts streaked over his head. The trooper slammed Niner's helmeted head into the metal, none too gently.

"Get a grip, now! Before we both end up like your brother!"

The shock of the impact knocked Niner back to reality, letting his training kick in. "Right, right. Sorry."

He rolled over, aiming at the droids, taking slower, more precise shots.

The Super Battle Droid had now opened fire, painting the gunship with shots.

"We're too exposed up here. We need to move."

Panic still lingered at the edge of Niner's voice. "Move where? This is the only cover we have!"

He was right. The gunship was the only feature on the tan landscape in an at least 200 meter radius. A bolt struck the metal inches from the trooper's face.

"Anywhere is better than here. Come on!"

Rolling to the edge of the ship, the two clones dropped down onto the sand.

"Rock formation. 1 o'clock. Run."

They took off, heading for a distant pile of brown boulders. As they passed his brother's body, Niner slowed, then stopped.

"Leave him, damn it!"

The clone made a move for the body. "He's alive! I saw him move!" This droids had reached the gunship.

"Niner! No!"

Niner hoisted the limp form onto his shoulders and turned towards the trooper, starting into a slow run.

"I've got him, let's get going. Don't worry, Lucky, I won't leave you." And Niner was right. He never left Lucky. He didn't leave when two blasts connected with his back and he staggered to his knees. He didn't leave when Lucky's body was shot again, knocking it off of his shoulders and into the dirt. When third bolt connected with Niner's shoulder, jerking him to the ground, he stayed, dragging himself towards his brother. He made to him, grabbing onto his arm just as the Super Battle Droid dropped its foot onto Niner's back, breaking it. Face-down in the sand, Lucky and Niner never left each other.

White-hot rage exploded inside the trooper. He swerved around, charging directly at the droids, firing rapidly. Two more B1's fell. The trooper closed distance with the Super Battle Droid, miraculously unscathed. He rammed the butt of his rifle into the red light on the thing's chest, sending sparks flying. But before he could react, the droid's arm flew at him from his right side, knocking his helmet off and sending him crashing to the ground. He looked up, staring down the barrel of the droid's wrist-blaster.

"DO IT! SHOOT, DAMN YOU!"

The trooper saw the droid take aim at his forehead just as a bright green beam broke through its chest. The droid crumpled to the ground as the beam swept away the remaining battle droids. When it deactivated, the trooper sat up slowly. He could see smoke rising from one of the hanging ball turrets on the gunship, crooked and cracked. Through the smoke, he could see two figures waving, one hanging out of the turret hatch. They walked over, one using a DC-15A as a crutch. The one who jumped out of the turret was a gunner, the one on the crutch a pilot. "Sorry for the delay, I was trapped in the turret until I could restore power, and flyboy here just woke up." The pilot shifted his weight off his left leg uncomfortably, then handed the trooper his fallen helmet. "Here, you dropped this." There was a massive dent in the forehead section.

Dent. The trooper liked the sound of that.

It was times like this when he wished battle droids slept. When just as he felt his eyes closing, metal feet shook the ground on which he lay. Tonight, he hadn't even gotten that far. He had barely removed his helmet when an artillery blast landed squarely in the foxhole a few meters in front of his, accompanied by countless others that impacted all down the Republic line. An attack always followed these bombardments, so he only had a few minutes to rescue any survivors of that impact. Jamming his helmet back on, he vaulted himself over the edge of his cover, grabbing his rifle as he leapt. A voice called out from behind him, barely audible through the explosions. "Blast it, Dent, why do you insist on checking every crater you see? There's never much left."

"If there's a trooper alive in there, we need him to fight. You don't have to come with me."

CT-56675 caught up with him just as the two reached the smoking pit. "Don't be stupid, you know I do." Looking down, they were greeted by a horrifying mixture of blackened flesh, chunks of armor, and the remains of two ration packets, cooked to a crisp. "Told ya, nothing but grunt goulash down there."

"Shut up, Auggie."

In an instant, the air was filled with red bolts, streaking out of the murky darkness in front of them. "Right on schedule. Damn droids never miss a beat, do they?" remarked Auggie as they scrambled back to their foxhole.

"They can't miss a beat. They're droids."

The pair dropped down into their shoulder high pit, heads shielded by the mound of earth around the perimeter. "Sure they can. Glitch in the system, commander droid short circuits, Trade Federation scum forget to set their alarms. I don't care how, just so long as it gets us a few hours of blasted shuteye."

"Well, when that happens, let me know. The first wave will be in range soon. Get into firing position."

Stepping up onto a small ledge carved into the wall of their hole, Dent and Auggie laid their rifles on the crest of their dirt pile, scanning the darkness for potential targets. All around them, thousands of pairs of clones did the same. The comlinks in their helmets crackled to life.

 _"Incoming enemy assault. All eyes downrange."  
_  
 _"Check those gas cartridges, misfires kill clones."  
_  
 _"Remember, prioritize the big guys and the rolling bastards. Let those skinny clankers walk into your fields of fire."  
_  
 _"Right then lads, here we go again."  
_  
The familiar roar of thousands of metal feet stomping in unison echoed across the Geonosian desert. "Hey, Dent, bet I get more scraps than you tonight." Auggie smirked.

"Maybe. If you cheat."

 _"Targets sighted! Blow em away!"  
_  
The blackness in front of them was lit up with the blinding blue light hurtling into it, contrasting sharply with the red flashes spewing from its depths. The skeletal silhouettes of a seemingly endless tide of droids were outlined each time a blue bolt found its mark, blowing it to bits. Dent aimed carefully, using these brief periods of clarity to pick off a mark or two. Auggie swept his barrel left and right, knowing that for every shot that missed, two found their prey.

 _"Pick up the pace left flank! Those tinnies are getting too close!"_

 _"Keep your bucket on, they won't make it any further!"_

 _"No special units yet, just the cannon fodder. Keep your eyes peeled for any expensive hardware."_

 _"Destroyers, right up the middle! They're too fast, I can't hit them! Approaching Sector One-Eleven! They're right on top of AAAHHH!"  
_  
"Sector One-Eleven, that's right next door!" Auggie shouted over the gunfire. Looking to his left, Dent saw the Destroyers. Four of them were rolling from foxhole to foxhole at breakneck speed, deploying just long enough to paint the interior with blaster fire. And they were getting closer.

"We are about to have company."

As the Destroyers reached the foxhole nearest to them, its inhabitants clambered out the other side and attempted to make a run for Auggie and Dent's hole. The two troopers were quickly gunned down. "Damned rollers!" cried Auggie. He swung his rifle around and opened fire on the droids. One of them crumbled in a shower of sparks before the rest activated their spherical deflector shields. Dent still had to prevent the advance of the main droid force.

"Keep firing at them Auggie, they can't roll with their shields up. I'll cover you from this side."

The B1's were getting closer. Each time Dent brought one down, ten more moved in closer. All down the line, the metallic host drew closer and closer to the defenders. No one was getting any sleep tonight. Dent blasted a droid that was advancing within a few meters of his cover.

"Auggie, I can't hold these guys! We need those rollers out of service, now!"

Still painting the shields with fire, Auggie glanced around the foxhole for something to use. "We got any droid poppers left?"

"Used the last one a few hours ago."

"Blast it! We got nothing else! I can't keep this up, I'll overheat soon!"

Dent risked missing a target in front of him to look around, searching desperately for a solution. His eyes rested on the bodies of the two troopers who had made a run for their hole. One of them was only a couple meters from them, and wearing a grenade belt!

"I think that guy has some to loan us!"

"Yeah, but he doesn't look like he is in any shape to waltz over and give them to us! And there's no way I'm going out there—Dent, heads up!"

Remembering the oncoming horde, Dent swung around to see a B1 droid set foot on the edge of the foxhole, aiming its blaster down at him. The droid fired and Dent jerked his head to the side, barely dodging the blast. He swung the butt of his rifle up, knocking the droid on the side of the head and sending it crashing into the hole. He leapt on top of it, knocking the blaster out of its clutches before bringing all of his weight down on the neck, snapping it. The thing shuddered, and went out. Before anymore could get that close, Dent leapt back up into his firing position.

"Auggie, stop firing so those things ball up and roll at us. While they are moving, get out there and grab those poppers!"

Auggie groaned, then lifted his finger off the trigger of his smoking rifle. "Why do I always get the fun jobs?" With the threat of combustion no longer imminent, The Destroyers curled up, deactivating their shields and speeding towards the clones. Defying every logical urge that told him to get behind something solid and stay there, Auggie dashed for the corpse, grabbing frantically at the belt. To his dismay, it had been melted to the trooper's armor by the blast that had brought him down. Auggie tried to drag the whole body with him, but the Destroyers were gaining.

"Auggie! Drop him and run!"

"But I've almost got it!"

"RUN DAMMIT!"

Auggie dropped the body and sprinted, just as the Destroyers stopped to deploy. Dent swung his sights around, bringing the holographic crosshairs on his visor to bear on one of the grenades still on the belt. Auggie slid into the foxhole. Dent took a deep breath, let it out, and squeezed the trigger. The direct hit set the droid popper off, starting a chain reaction that activated the whole belt. Just before their shields went up, the Destroyers were zapped, coursing with electricity for a few seconds, then crashing to the dirt. Almost simultaneously, the metal thundering grew quieter, and the red bolts flew less thick. Auggie laughed, "They're pulling back!"

"For now."

The pair collapsed, dragging their helmets off.

"We can't keep this up."

"Yeah, we can't." Auggie chuckled. "That's why we will be attacking soon."

"Attack a core ship? With these numbers? Not even the Jedi are that crazy."

Auggie laid his head on his helmet, closing his eyes. "You'll see." he said drowsily. "This time tomorrow, we'll be in that core ship."

"I really hate it when you're right"

The blue-striped trooper at the front of their column spun his head around. "Stow that chatter, clone."

"Sir, yes, sir."

Auggie was trying not to laugh. Dent couldn't see under his dirty helmet, but he knew Auggie had that dumb grin on his face. Dent shared that face, but never the smile. Since the unholy hours of the morning, the entire Republic line had been moving forward piece by piece, slowly encircling the massive core ship with a desperately thin line of men. They were the fifth platoon to move through this canyon, and the only one that had, so far, encountered no resistance. The sergeant jerked a hand in the air, three fingers extended. All along the line of twenty men, visors turned skyward, scanning for the damned bugs that had been harassing the other platoons. After a few tense seconds that felt like hours, the sergeant's hand lowered, and the men moved on, boots crunching on the coarse sand. Dent was just about to settle back into the comatose state he used to endure long marches when his helmet began playing a high-pitched buzzing into his ear. His visor flashed red, and an arrow shimmered into view. It pointed over the ridge in front of them.

"I've got a wing vibration, dead ahead."

The sergeant's had shot up again, followed by flashing visors and blaster barrels. After a minute, Dent's HUD was still lit up, but no bugs appeared. A trooper a few men down the line from Dent piped up. "Are you sure that pothole on your head isn't messing with your sensors?" he chuckled. "Shut up, tank scum." Auggie shot back. Dent rubbed a hand over the front of his helmet, feeling the uneven divot left by the Super Battle Droid's fist. He hadn't had the time to get it fixed. Maybe it was faulty. Outside Dent's helmet, the other clone had taken offense to Auggie's clever name-calling. "Who are you calling tank scum, you defect? They should have flushed you with the rest of your batch." Without hesitating, Auggie swung his blaster around to bear on the clone. "Say that again." he said quietly, strangely calm. Before the other trooper could react, Auggie's blaster was knocked out of his hands by the sergeant, who quickly zeroed his own sights on Auggie's chest. "I will not tolerate that behavior in this platoon, clone. I approved your transfer to this batch after yours failed because I did not want to see a valuable piece of military hardware wasted. Don't think that means I won't recycle you right here if I need to. Now get that rifle out of the dirt and fall in line." Auggie was still for a second, then said calmly, "Yes sir, sorry sir." He lifted his rifle, dusted it off, and fell in. The sergeant turned to the other clone, taking in a deep breath for another tirade. What came out instead was a scream. The bug came out of nowhere. Gnarled claws sank into the gaps in his armor around the base of the neck. The blue stripes were joined by streaks of red. A second too late, the Geonosian was ripped apart by twenty separate streaks of blue. The sergeant collapsed to the ground, just as the air filled with a loud buzzing.

"Barrels high! Watch each other's backs!"

Over the edges of the canyon above poured a swarm of bugs. The platoon opened fire, their shots seemingly swallowed by the endless tide. Dent rushed to the sergeant's crumpled body, lifting the stained helmet. Blood still oozed slowly out of deep wounds in his neck, but the sergeant's heart was no longer beating. A wasted piece of military hardware. Dent looked up. Around him, the bugs were getting closer. The canyon was a deathtrap. They needed to leave, now. Dent ran to the front of the column, blasting frantically into the hordes on either side.

"Move now! Over the ridge! Out of the canyon!"

"But the sarge!"

"Dead! Now RUN!"

The clones broke into a sprint, still spraying bolts in all directions. The bugs began dive bombing them from the edges of the gorge. Dent blasted one out of the air mere feet from his head, showering him with gooey entrails. He wiped the guts off his visor just in time to see the loudmouthed trooper grabbed from behind and lifted off his feet, shrieking. Seemingly out of nowhere, a rifle butt cracked into the bug's abdomen. It and the trooper hit the ground with a crunch. Without breaking his sprint, Auggie stomped on its neck and heaved the trooper to his feet. "Move." The ridge drew closer. Dent snatched a thermal detonator off his belt and tossed it over his shoulder into the swarm. The ground rocked, and the armor of every clone in the platoon was splattered with gore. The ridge was barely fifty yards away. They had made it. Until their hope was crushed by another mob of Geonosians crawling over their apparent salvation. Dent and the platoon slid to a halt, quickly forming a ring, smoking barrels bristling outward.

"Take as many of them with you as you can!"

Dent could feel the heat of his barrel through his gloved hand. He moved mechanically. The crosshairs on his HUD shot across his field of view. Target, fire. Target, fire. Each bug he popped was replaced by five more. Mere feet separated him from the tide. Insect-like hands groped for his weapon. He began swinging his DC-15A like a club, feeling the satisfying crunch every time he found a mark. Around him, the circle was being overrun. A clone fell screaming under a pile of bugs. Another was lifted and thrown into the surrounding horde. As his arms tired, Dent wondered if the other platoons had even made it. If this canyon had swallowed them all, like it was about to swallow him. He felt claws scrape across the armor on his back, finding a hold on his shoulder plates. He struggled in vain. His feet lifted off the ground. The bug was hauling him off to some hive to meet the same hellish fate as countless of his brothers. A colossal boom echoed down the canyon. Someone below must have tossed their whole grenade belt. But the next thing he knew, the grip on his armor disappeared, and Dent was falling. He crashed to the sand, rolling over just in time to see the swarm of Geonosians scattering like leaves in the wind.

Another blast shook the ground on which he lay. Dent stood shakily, scanning for the source. Many of his exhausted platoon had collapsed to the ground, chests heaving, wiping slime from their helmets. Three were bent over the previously buried trooper, scrambling in vain to dress the jagged wounds in the gaps of his armor. None of them had caused the explosions, which had now fallen silent. In their place was a heavy metallic grinding, mechanical joints jammed up with sand. Just when things were looking up, droids. But why would the bugs run from their own troops?Dent was startled from his thoughts by a crackling on his open comm channel.

" _Republic platoon, this is AT-TE 345. We are approaching the ridge south of your position. Hold fire."_

Auggie's head shot up from its slumped position on his chest. He had received the transmission as well.

"I thought we lost most of our armor to those blasted missiles in the initial landing."

"Well, obviously a few made it through."

Their comms lit up once again.

" _Yeah, very few. And you boots better consider yourselves lucky we did."_

Dent and the rest of the platoon looked up. Sure enough, the dirty, beaten machine was lumbering slowly over the ridge, the barrel of its main cannon still smoking.

" _Bugs are terrified of us without all their hardware. Couple volleys from the main gun and they piss their shells."_

The gunner on the turret stood in his chair, took off his helmet, and waved. Most of the platoon waved back. Most. Auggie took off his helmet too, yelling as soon as his face was visible, twisted with rage.

"If you are so damn scary, why aren't you the ones clearing these bloody death traps?"

Dent heard the answer through his helmet, the transmission coming from the command center inside the tank.

" _What the hell do you think we've been doing? Polishing our blasted windows? While you grunts have been in your holes playing with the locals, our armor unit has mopped up three core ships, with full droid detachments."_

Dent knew the tank commander was right. The remaining armor units had been used to spearhead almost every ground assault on a core ship, with outstanding results and devastating crew losses. But the 'playing with the locals' jab had swayed his opinion against this arrogant walker-jockey.

"Pretty easy to do with such a big blaster."

" _You better be glad this big blaster is on your side, because every damaged droid and bloody bug we've missed has retreated back to their last core ship stronghold. The one you've taken your sweet damned time in destroying._

Dent had never seen so much blaster fire. The red flashes blended into one blinding flare spewing deadly streaks. He crouched low behind a chunk of rubble, which was steadily being eaten away by the swarm of heat. Around him, the ground glared white, the armor of countless troopers reflecting stubbornly through dirt, blood, and blast marks. Around him, clusters of survivors lay behind their own flimsy bits of cover. This was not supposed to happen. They were supposed to approach the core ship cautiously, testing its troops and probing its defenses. Then the mortars began to fall, and the deadly accurate bolts of robotic snipers tore through shining helmets. Unable to engage these enemies at range, clone commanders had rushed their platoons under the guns, piling into the abandoned enemy trenches encircling the stronghold. Never before had Dent so appreciated a pile of earth. The trenches were just in range of the countless blasters and repeater turret bunkers surrounding the Separatists' final holdout. The red tide of fire had started just as the men dove headlong into the ditches. From this position of relative safety, they could have come up with a plan. Could have called fire support, waited for an opening. Then that blasted Jedi appeared. Dent had never seen a Jedi in his life, and if he survived this day, hoped to never see one again. At first, he had gawked along with his comrades as the brown-robed Knight stood valiantly above the trench, cutting through the crimson storm with a streak of bright blue. All it took was a raised blade, a few rousing words in the name of democracy, and the entire clone force had broken cover, following this arrogant, young, self-fashioned commander into the maelstrom. What had possessed them to believe they could make it, could follow their invincible leader to victory, Dent didn't know. He had been lucky. There were a few ranks of men in between him and the front line. It had bought him a time to come to his senses. Watching his brothers cut to ribbons in seconds hastened this process. A mortar had landed further up the line, scattering rubble across the open field. Dent and many others chose life over "honorable" death and scrambled behind the smoking boulders. Those who still followed the Jedi barely made it another ten meters. Deprived of his host of easy targets to draw fire, the Jedi was soon overwhelmed. Force or no Force, a lightsaber could not deflect a thousand bolts at once. The young fool fell, smoking, burnt to an almost unrecognizable state. The shining blade that had led them to their doom shrank to nothing, gleaming hilt rolling to a stop on the scorched sand. Dent's gaze fixed on that small metal cylinder, a mythical weapon of legend defeated by a horde of cheap automatons. Two stragglers dragged themselves through the bodies to Dent's small cover. One of the troopers screamed at Dent over the roar of fire.

"What do we do now?!"

His comrade retaliated before Dent could come up with a response.

"What were you bred for?! Fight!"

He shouldered his rifle, swinging the muzzle around the edge of the boulder with practiced speed and precision. That expertise was erased in a second by the two bolts that shattered through his visor, and the three more that blew gaping holes in his chestplate. The smoking carcass jerked backwards, crashing down on top of the heaps of his brothers that had made the same engineered decision. Dent dragged his helmet off, turning it around to look at the grimy faceplate. He ran his fingers over the damaged forehead, remembering the bodies of Arrow, Stripe, Lucky, and Niner, piled in the same discarded heaps. He looked out at the carnage, wondering which one of those pale forms belonged to Auggie. He looked over at the other trooper near him, who had now joined him slumped down behind the rock. He too had removed his bucket, going so far as to throw it out into the open, where it now lay blasted in two pieces.

"What's your name?"

"CT-5834"

"No, your name. What they called you."

"Didn't have one. Never earned one I guess."

"I didn't earn mine, it was given to me by a droid that killed my friends, and I would do anything have it taken back."

"What is it?"

Dent handed the trooper his helmet.

"Dent."

The trooper almost smiled, then chuckled grimly.

"All my friends are dead, and I didn't even get a name out of it."

Dent looked over at the still smouldering corpse.

"What was his name?"

"Trigger."

"Quick to pull his?"

"Too quick. Always left the rest of us behind, now he's left me alone."

"Well then Loner, what do you think we should do now?"

"Loner. Huh. Better than nothing I guess. What I'm supposed to say now is we should die well for the Republic.

"What are you going to say instead?"

"I'm going to say we sit here until we run out of rock. Our lives are short enough already. Might as well get as many more seconds as we can."

That sounded good to Dent. He leaned back and looked up at the rust-colored sky, the only sky he had known other than the clouds of Kamino. As he closed eyes, he thought he felt the shade of those same clouds covering his face. He didn't see shape of the Acclamator Assault Ship gliding over the killing fields.


End file.
